


Sightless: The Philosopher's Stone

by wordsinabook



Series: Sightless [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: All Character Have Flaws, Bisexual Harry Potter, Black Hermione Granger, Blind Harry Potter, Blind!Harry, Blind!Harry Potter, Disabled Harry, Disabled Harry Potter, Draco Redeemed, Draco and Ron rivalry, Draco learns not to be a git, Draco works through prejudice, Emotionally Abused Harry, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Good Slytherins, Harry & OC, Harry Potter is a Good Friend, Harry Potter is a Horcrux, Hurt Harry, M/M, POC Harry Potter, POV shifts, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Slytherin Harry Potter, Slytherin Hermione, Slytherin Ron Weasley, Slytherin Trio, Smart Harry Potter, Snape is a dick, Sweet Harry Potter, alternative universe, dursleys are dicks, poc characters, slow plot, slytherin golden trio
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2019-07-25 21:16:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 20,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16205831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsinabook/pseuds/wordsinabook
Summary: When hit by the Killing Curse, Harry Potter is left blind. How will this disability change the outcome of his future of saving the wizarding world?





	1. Being Strange

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kinda short but it's basically just the intro into the story.

**1: Being Strange**

Harry Potter knew that he was strange. His Uncle and Aunt told him countless times and were not afraid to lay a hand on him when he was being excessively freakish. _Everything_ about him was strange.

His scar was strange. It started between his eyebrows, stretched over the bridge of his nose and over his eyelids. Despite not being able to see it himself, he was told that it looked like lightning when it struck the ground or the branches of a thin tree.

Harry sometimes traced over the scarred tissue with his fingers, over each grove in his skin. His doctors said that his scar was unlike anything that they had seen before and they were shocked when Aunt Petunia told them it was only from a car crash- the crash his drunkard parents had died in and had caused his blindness.

His blindness was strange. Apparently, as a child, he was able to navigate without difficulty. He did it so well that many doubted he was actually blind. As he grew, said gift appeared to disappear and he was once more claimed legally blind. 

Harry Potter knew that he was anything but normal.

So Strangeness is what he called it when _it_ began to occur.

It occurred scarcely and in seemingly random moments. In these certain moments, he could _see_. At first, he thought it was a figment of his imagination, a silly illusion caused by the isolation in his cupboard with no one but spiders for company. He had heard on the television- without letting his Uncle Vernon know- that with the lack of sleep, food or water, people could hallucinate. He didn't know that it probably wasn't possible to suddenly be able to see. A quick confirmation that blind, in fact, meant sightless from his doctor and he was scared; dreading the fact that he was strange in another way, freakish by nature-like his Aunt said.

In his younger years, his teachers had comforted him and told him he was silly but that word was replaced by delusional behind his back. After years of the small occurrences, he began to take notes of when it happened to hopefully discover what was causing it. At the mere age of eight, he confirmed his hypothesis that noises and echoes affected his vision. His teacher had told him that it was called echolocation and it was what his white cane did on a smaller scale. So after a quick stop at the library one afternoon, researching echolocation and animals that could do it, he began to practice with his teacher.

Echolocation allowed Harry to make out vague outlines and darkened shadows of objects. With large amounts of concentration, he was able to see colors and a strange light that flowed.

With a simple click of his tongue or whistle, Harry began to learn to navigate himself around his classroom and later the playground. His teacher no longer had to walk him around which was good for his independence but horrible for his back which was bruised after a long game of Harry Hunting. His cousin, Dudley Dursley, had great fun in leading hide in seek which usually consisted in stealing Harry's white cane and tossing it to one another while running away and then hiding it in the hardest to reach places.

That's how he found himself one afternoon, stranded on the roof of the building pounding his fists against the door that was locked behind him. His newly retrieved white cane clutched in his hand while his other trembled while frantically twisting the doorknob again and again. He could hear his cousin's snickers fade away as he and his friends walked further from the door.

 _'Should he scream? Would anyone even hear him? Were they even looking for him?'_ His thoughts poured over and over in a cycle and he felt like it was getting harder to breathe. He wasn't sure how long he was stuck there but his arms were growing cold from the wind and his eyes prickled. He wiped his tears off furiously. _'This is not a time to cry, it's useless in finding a way down. God, why didn't you just stay in the library?'_ He brought his arm down roughly on the door and let out a frightened yelp when his hand connected with a table instead. He let his palm wander on the surface of it and was able to locate the carving his cousin had made the week prior.

'FREAK'

This was his table in the library, the one that no one dared came near for fear of catching the Strangeness. Once upon a time, when his teacher accompanied him around, Harry had his peers sit with him. That quickly ended when Dudley threatened to include them as targets during Harry Hunting. Since then, Harry hadn't had anyone sit with him.

It was rare that Dudley set foot into the library so Harry usually would get comfortable underneath or even at the table, pull out his stash of Braille books from the corner and trace the words in peace. But today, being in the library did nothing to ease his frantic mind. _'How had he come down? He was sure he hadn't walked down.'_ At least not that he remembered. This happened sometimes when he used his Strangeness or echolocation for too long. His ears would ring and head would ache until he stopped and took a nap. Being lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice the teacher enter the library or the boy standing in the corner adjacent from him.

"Harry Potter!" His head snapped up hurriedly. "What on earth do you think you're doing in the library? Free period ended twenty minutes ago and the staff had been searching for you since! Get out here this instant young man, your uncle will not be pleased." Reluctantly, he did, wincing at being reminded of Uncle Vernon's open displeasure of him. The librarian took him by the arm and pulled him along to his classroom where his homeroom teacher went off into a rant about how 'being blind did not make him privileged' and 'most certainly did not excuse his behavior for disappearing during free time'. He could make out Dudley's muffled snickers as he recounted the tale to Piers who had not been allowed out for free period.

His teacher led him back to his classroom where the 'special children' went. It was often occupied by the disabled children as well as time out area for the troublesome children. It was a good thing that Harry fit into both categories.

-

His feet trudged forward as he made his way to Number Four Privet Drive. He walked in behind Dudley, having to push his cane forward to keep the door from slamming in his face. He learned that they were more than happy to lock him out should he not get in at a young age.

Walking in, he heard his cousin gush on about how Harry got in trouble in class, which was unnecessary because they'd already been called from the office. He kept his head down, careful to not call attention to himself more than he's already going to. He heard his Uncle Vernon huff out in irritation and step toward Harry. His meaty hand slamming the door behind Harry.  _Too late._

"Get in here, boy!" He kept his gaze down, last time his Strangeness had worked, he'd been able to see his Uncle Vernon's purple face as he yelled at him for being a nuisance. He was feeling awfully tired since the roof incident and was looking forward to his cot in the cupboard under the stairs that belonged to him.

He should have known that his Uncle's mercy was nonexistent and he was reminded that Strangeness was something that the Dursley's did not tolerate.

He lay on the cot of his cupboard as the cold crept in from underneath the door and he whispered a sweet melody to the spiders, his fingers helping weave their web. The Strangeness came in and he could make out the dirt on the floor of his cupboard. His possessions are lined up on the shelf beside his cot. He fiddled with his broken sunglasses and continued to sing. 

He winced when he leaned too far onto his bruised back. Aunt Petunia was always too scared-or dare he say, kind-to hit him enough to mark but Uncle Vernon held no such rule. A symbol of strength and brute force that Dudley chose to follow. 

After his head began to throb, he decided to stop using his Strangeness and watched as the color and lights faded away to the black that he had grown accustomed to. He closed his eyes cursing himself for being Strange and drifted off still questioning just how he had gotten off the roof.

 

 


	2. Freaks

**2: Freaks**

He supposed he should be glad he was blind. If he wasn't, he'd have to spend a lot more of school time with Dudley. Now, he listened as his teacher taught him in his classroom with the new foreign exchange student, Mathias Raymond. 

He was from Thailand and was staying for a few years with his Grandmother who was sick. He had volunteered to be a part of the 'Helpers' program.

His accent was different than what Harry was used to and he quickly discovered that when put on the spot with questions, he would chew on his nails and he had a habit of shuffling his feet.

"Because you both are still learning your way around the school, I suggest you stick together during free period when you are welcome to explore the school grounds. After all, you'll both be spending most of the year together."

So they did. Harry trailing his hand along the wall with one hand and with his cane in his other hand as Mathias shuffled beside him as most people did. When they reached the library, Harry reached for the handle but was quickly stopped by another hand.

"Let me geddit." Harry felt a pang indignity course through him, but he quickly calmed himself down and made sure to put on a blank face as he said a quick 'thanks'. This was their last stop in the school beside the playground but Harry was determined to not let Mathias be seen with himself or else he would be targeted by Dudley.

He suppressed a sigh as he walked to his corner to catch up on his reading. Because few people actually wrote in Braille, Harry was stuck with high-level novels that he sometimes didn't understand but he preferred it as opposed to his teacher's sickly sweet voice as she slowly read from toddler books. He was  _blind_ , not  _stupid_.

Lost in his thoughts, he walked forward, his Strangeness taking over and pushing the piles of books and paper out of the way for him to reach the makeshift shelf near the table. Mathias Raymond watched in awe as the books parted seemingly on their own and the book pulled itself slightly out the shelf into Harry's fingertips.

He had heard about the blind freak, stories of how strange things happened around him. He was a menace, a freak. But as Mathias watched him trace his fingers along the spines of the books, each one pulling themselves closer to feel his touch, he wasn't afraid. He understood. People were afraid of what was different, cursed people for the color of skin, religion, and love. His own parents were screamed at for being Thai, his skin much darker than everyone in his class. He was often looked down upon for being Buddhist. In fact, he had had the pleasure of meeting one Dudley Dursley who was already sneering at him.

He looked at the blind boy. Harry's skin was lighter than his own but still darker than most of their classmates. His hair was a midnight black, sticking out in every direction. The blind boy's emerald eyes contrasted with the pale lines of a scar branching out beneath the black shades. Mathias watched as the strange boy made his way to the back of the library, hoping he got a chance to see his Strangeness again.

A few days before when he came with his parents for the informational meeting, Mathias had wandered into the library while his parents spoke to the principal. He had been looking at the comics in the corner when he had heard a thud and he had first laid eyes on Harry Potter. The boy hadn't walked through the door and then suddenly a teacher was there exclaiming and dragging him out.

Now, he watched Harry as he ran his fingers along the bumps of his book, lips mouthing the words as he passed over them. He held his own book in his hand and contemplated before sitting across from the boy. He tried to sit down quietly but as he saw the boy stiffen he knew that he had failed. The boy's hands stilled on the page and his eyes flickered over to Mathias's general direction.

"Mathias?"

He remembered how the teacher had told him to announce himself to Harry before speaking.

"Yea, yea it's me. I'm sitting across from you."

Harry gave him a hesitant nod and opened, closed and reopened his mouth.

"Why are you sitting  _here_? With me?"

"Um...well I heard that...I mean I wanted to see if..." Mathias found himself at a loss for words.

"Oh. Is that what this is? Dudley told you about the freak and got you to pick on me? Just get it bloody over with." He let out a quiet sigh, closing his book after placing a bookmark inside it. He lifted his hand slightly as if to block his face but not willing to show weakness.

"What? No!" He leaned forward to pull Harry's hand away from his head.

"Then what do you want from me?"

"I just wanted to be your friend." _People don't want to be your friend. They just pity freaks._

"I don't need your pity." Harry's voice was soft and broken, pulling his arm out the boy's grasp.

"It's not  _pity_. It's understanding; Dudley called me a freak too."

Harry remembered how Uncle Vernon had called him 'an ungrateful immigrant' and how Dudley had complained saying how he had 'surely cheated to get better grades'. Harry felt his ear slightly heat up in embarrassment for his reaction.

"...Sorry."

"It's fine, besides, if we're both going to hide in the library it would be nice to have some company." Harry let out a huffed laugh with a small smile and Mathias let himself smile too. Harry stuck his hand out.

"Harry Potter, Blind Freak."

"Mathias Raymond, Thai Freak."

Mathias took his hand and shook it. They spent the rest of free period in the library, discussing their plans for the Fall Break that would soon start and bonding over their equal displeasure of one Dudley Dursley. 

-

When school ended, Harry found himself being accompanied to the gate by Mathias. He happily talked about his favorite family recipes as Harry listened, a sad longing filling his thoughts. He knew he should be heading directly to Number Four on Privet Drive but his heart swelled with the thought of finally having a friend. After walking to the gate of the school, they said good-bye and parted ways. Harry feeling giddy despite heading to his cupboard and Mathias with a smile on his face.

"You're late, boy." His Uncle's voice welcomed him.

"Just had to pick up something, sir. It won't happen again." Harry faced his shoes.

"It better not. You have chores to do and you need to start cleaning out the guest room for Aunt Marge, ungrateful freak." Harry nodded, putting his bag inside his cupboard and heading to the sink to clean. He should have known chores weren't the only punishment he had.

That night he held his cheek, where he was sure a bruise was starting to form. He knew the bruise would fade but his cheeks still stung, Uncle Vernon rarely left a mark where it could be seen. Despite knowing it wasn't the last punishment that would await him this break, he couldn't bring himself to regret staying at school.

-

Mathias was waiting patiently for his new friend at the library entrance on Monday after the break. He knew the boy liked to spend his free period at the library where Dudley never walked in. Even as he heard the insults aimed at him from Dudley, he smiled and continued to walk until he spotted Harry. The green-eyed boy had the hood of his large jacket pulled over his face and seemed to be hiding more than usual. As he reached him, he saw the boy stiffen.

"It's me, Thai Freak." He said in an effort to calm him, setting his own bag on the floor and sitting in the empty seat beside him.

"Hey, Mathias." He answered, turning his head further away. Mathias furrowed his eyebrows at the boy's antics.

"Dudley's face today was hilarious when the teacher corrected him in class, I wish you could have seen it." He chuckled and only received a small smile in return.

"Me too." Came Harry's curt reply. They sat in silence for a moment before Mathias mustered the courage to ask.

"Did I-Did I do something wrong?" He asked tentatively. Harry's emerald eyes turned wide to face him.

"N-no! You did nothing wrong." Harry mentally slapped himself,  _your only friend and you're driving him away_. He forgot to hide the bruise on his cheek as he turned to reassure him. Mathias's eyes trailed off to see the faint green and yellow bruise on his friend's cheek.

"Did Dudley do that?" He asked and carefully put his hand on Harry's cheek. He turned his face out of Mathias grasp.

"No, I just fell down. Couldn't really see the rock, being blind and all." He let out a nervous laugh and hoped Mathias bought it. His Uncle had been very clear about not letting anyone find out what happened unless he wanted to be thrown into an orphanage where it would be worse, or living on the street where he wouldn't survive.

Mathias wasn't buying it. He had seen the books move so Harry wouldn't trip in the library, he was sure rocks would do the same. But he didn't know if their friendship was at the level of prying and demanding answers. If Harry wanted him to know, he would have told him. So he did what any freak friend would and laughed back.

"I'll just have to describe your cousin's face to you then." He replied and was happy to see a bright smile replace Harry's forced one.

"Please do." And he didn't stop there, he began to describe their classmates, the playground and even animals to his new friend. Every day during their free period, he would find something new subjects to describe or a book to read. Days turned into weeks and weeks into a month before Winter Break rolled around. It was safe to say that that month was quite possibly the best Harry had ever experienced.


	3. Prized Possessions

**3: Prized Possessions**

Harry had few things he owned; few things that he considered his personal possessions. Things like his cane, his typer, and his shades.

His shades were cracked and held together with tape in the middle, but he wore them to please his peers who squirmed when under his unfocused and clouded gaze. His cane was filthy at the end and chipped from the many rounds of Harry Hunting and Harry's echolocation testing that it had to endure.

His Braille typer was old and worn, similar to all his possessions but it was  _his_. He loved being able to write his thoughts and ideas. He loved his table in the library that had become a sanctuary from Dudley and his posse. His friendship with the Thai boy was another thing he had come to cherish, a thing that was his alone.

His things were usually kept hidden in the darkness of his cupboard where his relatives didn't dare wander. Despite being his prison, it was also his sanctuary of sorts. But his blossoming friendship with Mathias could not fit in his cupboard. Much like his table in the library, it was at the mercy of Dudley where he could, at any time, harm. So he kept it as hidden as he could from the evil grasps of his relatives but getting closer to summer, it was harder. 

The year had gone by relatively fast with Mathias to keep him company. He had made sure to finish all his work, both at school and at the Dursley's, to make sure he could spend time with him in the playground or in the field behind the school, sitting cross-legged with eyes closed as Mathias described different colors to him. He described shapes and would often mold them for him in his clay. They promised to meet each other in the park during the summer as often as they could. Harry knew it would be hard to get away with all the chores he knew he would have but simply smiled.

"My parents even said you could come over." Mathias continued with glee. Harry felt his blood run cold. Sneaking away was one thing but if Uncle Vernon found out he was going to the  _other freakish immigrant_ 's home he would surely have a fit. A fit that included his belt on Harry's back.

"I'd have to check with Uncle Vernon, I have responsibilities during the summer." He said instead, trying not to sound too defeated.

"What kind of responsibilities?" His tone was curious but Harry could hear the slight suspicion, something he could easily pick up with his heightened ears.

"Just cleaning, cooking, gardening...y'know, the basic chores." He tried for a casual response.

"...right." Mathias sounded doubtful and Harry knew he'd start to ask more so he quickly changed the subject.

"Are you going anywhere?"

"Yea! My mom said that..." Hearing Mathias's babble, Harry let himself relax. He walked with him to the gate, listening to his accented voice go on about his plans. They were the last out, falling behind the crowd of their peers rushing home for the summer. Harry gripped his cane tighter and felt his heart sink when he heard Dudley's voice telling him he better not be late.

"I'll try to see you in two weeks before heading to Italy." Mathias hesitated before bringing Harry in for a hug. "I'll see you." He shouted over his shoulder before walking away. Harry had never felt so alone as he trudged his way to number four on Privet Drive

Upon entering through the door, he could feel the tension on the back of his neck.

"You were with the other freak?" He heard his Uncle Vernon's voice question.

"Yes, sir." Better not to lie, Uncle Vernon probably heard it from Dudley and 'God knows that little Duddykins never lies'. He heard the sound of his steps followed by the sliding of a belt.  _Please don't hit me!_  He felt panic flow out and he braced himself for the hit of leather but heard the sound of metal hitting the ground instead.

"Y-you did this, boy!" He heard his Uncle sputter. In the distance, he could hear his Aunt Petunia gasp in fright. He felt his own hands shake, knees buckling slightly under fatigue despite not doing any chores. It felt like the roof all over again.

"I will not put up with this freakish behavior!"His Uncle's meaty hands gripped his eight-year-old arms and hauled him to his cupboard. He heard as the door slammed behind him, floor shaking from the force. He clutched his arm where he was sure a bruise was forming. He did not cry, would not cry. Crying would get him nowhere and would only make matters worse. 

That week he was given food only twice. It was not the first time he was starved and he was sure it wouldn't be the last. He passed time by reading his braille books. He knew it was nighttime when he heard the sound of three sets of feet walking up the steps. 

He had heard Uncle Vernon tell his Aunt Petunia that afternoon that "That freak should be kicked out! He turned my belt into a strand of paperclips!" and then heard as they continued to discuss his strangeness and punishments.  

His Strangeness was what stopped his Uncle Vernon from hitting him a week ago and many times before then. His Strangeness was what had made his relatives and peers filled with disgust and fear for him.  _Not Mathias._ His mind reminded him.

Mathias had mentioned that he had seen Harry's Strangeness many times; when he put books on the shelf, when pebbles moved from his path, his swing going much higher than anyone else's without being pushed. But he had not been afraid of it or called him a freak.

"I think it's bloody fantastic!" He had exclaimed a week later when they had met in the park. Harry had gotten away on his trip to get seeds for Aunt Petunia's garden.

"...you don't think it's...freakish?"

"No. It's more like...what the fairy godmother does, y'know? Like magic." Harry was silent for a moment and Mathias began to think he had said the wrong thing. He opened his mouth to apologize but was interrupted when Harry spoke up.

"Thank you." His voice was barely a whisper as he said it. Mathias smiled and they walked the edge of the park, allowing Harry to trail his palm on the chain-link fence as he enjoyed.

Mathias let Harry practice his echolocation on objects like fountains, swings, slides, and flowers. He tried to describe the colors but it proved harder to do when he realized Harry didn't know any. After hours spent in the cool wind of summer, Mathias finally said goodbye and led him to the main street so he could head home. He pulled him into a hug and promised to write. Harry said he might be out of the country for summer and thus might not answer but it was really just an excuse, he knew Uncle Vernon would burn anything addressed to him.

The rest of the summer was labor-filled. He spent time outside, tending to the garden, inside making food and cleaning. He made sure to be as silent as possible and not step out of line. Which was harder when the line was continuously being redrawn. He was thankful for his Strangeness- no his  _magic_ \- to keep him busy in the loneliness of his cupboard. 


	4. The M-Word

**4: The M-Word  
**

Harry had learned long ago that joy and comfort of any kind were forbidden to freaks like him. It was a simple rule that seemed to govern his life.

It had started early on in his childhood before he learned to even speak. It was an unspoken rule that all the Dursleys knew by heart and followed wordlessly. It was effective, he thought as he traced his fingers over the nick in the shelf. Since he'd found it, he'd had flashes of the memory of when the shelf had been damaged. 

It had occurred during a vague time period of his childhood which Harry blearily remembered. He  _could_  remember that he began giggling and the toy soldiers began to move on their own account- his first case of Strangeness. His vision lightened and he could see colors of all kinds, the shadows pulling away as he watched the soldier float above his head. When remembering this, Harry had thought that it had been a dream of sorts.

His Aunt's cooing stilled and Dudley began to cry. Although Harry couldn't see her, he could feel her anger and fright radiate off of her in waves.

"Aunt 'Tunia, I makin' them fly! Like in Peter Pan! It kinda like magic, right?"

He lay crying that night for his mom-silently of course-who he knew would not come to help him. He realized solemnly that his memory must have been foggy due to the collision his skull endured when thrown into the cupboard, nicking the edge of a shelf. 

He'd added 'Don't say the M-word' to his list of rules he kept engraved into his memory since he had remembered alongside 'Don't talk', 'Don't question' and 'Don't bother'. From his cot in the cupboard under the stairs, Harry could just make out the pitter-patter of the rain outside. 

He shivered involuntarily as he remembered one of his first rules. It was during a thunderstorm in which the lights went out and Dudley's wailing filled the house. Harry was frightened of the loud thundering that shook the house and he muttered reassurances to himself as he huddled beneath the coffee table. A strike hit somewhere close in the distance and Harry's heart thudded uncontrollably. Before he could stop himself he cried out.

"Mommy!" His voice echoed and he flailed in fright as he felt his Aunt Petunia's bony feet hit him in the ribs.

"Hush,  _boy_. You're scaring my son." Her voice was colder than the rain that hit the windows and Harry bit into his trembling lip to keep from crying again.

 _'You're scaring Dudley, that's why you need to be quiet.'_ He told himself. _'Maybe she doesn't like you cause you cry too much.'_  He learned to keep his crying silent and discomfort unknown. 

He had made sure to follow his rules diligently and had done so to the best of his ability. That was until Mathias came along. Around Mathias, it was easier to get carried away. Often he would find himself calling it magic. Typing about his magic, experimenting with it. Enjoying it. So, of course, it had to come crashing down.

Harry learned that saying the word to himself in the darkness of his cupboard was one thing but repeating it in the presence of his relatives proved to be a mistake. Subconsciously, he brought a hand to his cheekbone where he felt the slight indention of a ring's path. Yet another scar of his childhood.

"What did you say?" His Aunt Petunia's voice was cold and gripped at his heart. He should have backed down and apologized but he didn't. A burning desire to speak up that he thought had diminished long ago, rekindled at that moment. His hands dropped from where he was holding the vase he had just saved from breaking.

"I said I didn't mean to."

"After that."

"I couldn't control it, it was like- like magic."

A smack cut through the stillness. The sting made Harry raise his hand to cup his cheek where his Aunt Petunia had slapped him, warm blood starting to flow out from her wedding ring's cut. Her punishment had always been discreet, a casual pinch in his ribs or slightly less food than before but never an outright slap. Never something noticeable that would raise questions. Especially not on the face.

"You will not repeat that-that curse in this house, boy!" Vernon's steps came thundering down the steps as he heard his wife's cold voice.

"What happened, Pet?" He asked.

"That freak!" Nothing else needed to be said. Uncle Vernon's meaty hands grabbed Harry's shoulders as he slid off his belt to strike his back with. Although Harry had learned how to dodge blows, he had also learned that it was easier and less trouble to accept it the first time they came. Some part of him felt he deserved the pain, deserved the suffering he endured. So, Harry bit his lip as he felt the leather strike his back.

 _'No more magic, freak.'_  He told himself. He promised himself not to do it again, magic was a curse. He didn't use it within the Dursley household or near any Dursley again.

Until the Zoo Incident.

-

It was Dudley's birthday. Harry woke early and made a big breakfast before baking a cake. Then, as Dudley was getting ready in his room, Harry had to endure his Aunt and Uncle argue about what to do with him. Because his normal caretaker had a leg injury-although Aunt Petunia said she just didn't want to look at Harry anymore- Harry had to tag along with Dudley and Piers to the zoo.

He had been standing beside an exhibition leaning on the railing, listening as other students and children ran along to peer at each animal. He had passed the gorilla exhibit earlier, chuckling when he remembered how Mathias had said it looked 'like Dudley but hairier' one afternoon in the library when describing exotic animals.

He sighed when he heard his cousin tap on the glass and demand that the boa constrictor move. When it did nothing, he walked away grumbling. Harry ran his hands over the sign, tracing each letter carefully.

"'Bred in captivity', huh? Me too." Harry sighed, "Sorry about him, he doesn't understand what it's like being stuck in a cage."

He could vaguely hear someone whispering at him but didn't hear anyone approach him. He was tempted to use his Sight, as Mathias made him call it, but to see properly he'd have to make a large noise which would grab attention. He could still hear someone talking but it sounded muffled, something his sensitive ears could pick up on.

He tilted his head in an attempt to hear. Suddenly he was being pushed down to the floor by his cousin.

"Look at what it's doing!" He heard him say. _It probably has a name. The poor thing stuck looking at your cousin_. That was probably one of the few benefits of not being able to see all the time, he wouldn't have to bear the sight of his cousin. Dudley slammed his hands onto the glass and Harry felt irritation twitch in the back of his head.  _If only he knew what it was like to be stuck behind the glass_.

His cousin yelped and Harry heard screams from around the zoo. He reached for his cane and instead was met with something that had rough and had humid scales.

"Thank you. Brazil here I come." He heard the snake hiss. The boa slithered over his hand and out the door, causing shrieks when he hissed. He turned his attention to the pounding and wails of his cousin from behind the glass that once held the snake. Aunt Petunia cried for help and his Uncle Vernon demanded that they get his precious son out of there.

The ride back home was quiet and Harry felt like he was waiting in the static air right before a thunderstorm. He faltered on the steps before being pushed roughly inside by his Uncle. His cousin and Aunt Petunia went upstairs to clean him off and Harry was left at the mercy of his Uncle.

"Care to explain how you got Duddykins behind the glass? Who did you pay?" His Uncle's voice was rage-filled and shaking.

"I-I didn't h-honest. I swear, it must have been my ma-" Harry clamped his mouth shut and accidentally bit his tongue in the process.

"Your  _what_ , boy?" There was a warning in his tone, a warning that Harry had learned to read without having to see. He lowered his gaze, a sign of submission. They had been clear about that cursed M-word being used.

Despite not being able to see, he was sure his Uncle was smug as he dragged him by his raven locks into the cupboard he had grown accustomed to. It felt much like it had all those years ago when he made the soldiers dance. He learned once again that joy was punishable and the M-word was forbidden in the perfectly non-freakish household of the Dursleys.


	5. Mr. H. Potter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost the last entire part was from the book-The Sorcerer's Stone. I don't own any of it (obviously)!

**5: Mr. H Potter**

The envelope in his hands felt heavy despite being thin. His fingers trembled underneath the strange paper and he found himself tracing his fingers onto his name in Braille. A letter. To him. Mr. H. Potter-  _Mister! -_ the Cupboard Under the Stairs. Harry faltered, no one ever wrote him mail. Mathias much preferred to tell him in-person of his many adventures. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake.  

"Checking for explosives?" He heard Uncle Vernon's amused voice came from the kitchen. Harry tried to hide the envelope behind his back but suddenly his cousin's meaty hands were pulling it out of his grasp.

"Dad! The freak was trying to steal our mail."

"It's mine." He felt the need to stress the fact that if anyone was stealing someone's mail, it was Dudley.

"You don't get mail..." He trailed off when he saw the Braille on the letter, with a shiny green ink below it and sealed with a bright red wax not that Harry could see it.

"...It was addressed to me. That makes it mine." Harry's unseeing eyes met his Uncle's fiery gaze. He helplessly reached for it but then it was pulled out of his grasp.

"I don't see any letters for the freak of the household." Came his Uncle's curt reply. Harry made an attempt at it again but was pushed back by his Uncle's palm.

He was moved into Dudley's playroom that afternoon, having to haul toys upon toys out into the hall and drag them into the attic while Dudley complained. His simple mattress was pushed up against the wall and Harry had taken his few possessions and hidden them underneath the floorboard beneath it. He was so caught up in moving the items he wasn't aware of his Aunt and Uncle's hushed and frantic whispers as Uncle Vernon ripped the envelope in half before chucking it into the fireplace.

He felt his fingers twitch as he lay in his room that night. Yes, his  _room_. It may not have been his birthday but Harry couldn't help but feel like he was receiving presents. 

-

When the post arrived the following day, to the innocent at heart, it would have seemed as though Uncle Vernon was trying to be nice to Harry by making Dudley go and get it. But Harry knew better than those who gave others the benefit of the doubt. Uncle Vernon was not  _nice,_ it simply wasn't in his DNA. 

Dudley huffed in annoyance and they heard him banging things with his Smeltings stick all the way down the hall.

"There's another one! Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive –" His voice was cut off when his Uncle snatched it from his hands and chucked it into the trash and demanded that Harry go weed out the garden. 

It felt almost like they were punishing him for receiving mail, which was absurd, it wasn't like Harry could control who sent him mail. As he pulled, trimmed and planted in the garden, he let his mind wonder who was sending him so many letters. Not only were the letters oddly specific, which ruled out Mathias, they were also in Braille which meant they knew he was blind. Harry also assumed that they must have written it some other way since the Dursley's couldn't be bothered to learn Braille.

He sighed before digging another hole, from the looks of it- _ha right_ -he wasn't going to ever find out.

That night he devised a plan, he would make sure to get extra early to get to the letter before his Uncle. However, it seemed his Uncle thought ahead because once Harry carefully reached the last step he heard as his Uncle caught the letters from his spot on the doormat. He chuckled happily as he tore them.

"Go on and make breakfast, boy."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon."

The rest of the day his Uncle was cheerful as he read his paper and ordered Harry to clean the shed outside. Which lasted until Saturday when the milkman delivered the next twenty-four letters that were rolled up and hidden within all of the two dozen eggs. 

-

Uncle Vernon's good mood returned on Sunday.

"D'you know why today is a great day?" He asked. His voice adopting a hysterical lilt to it.

Harry shook his head wearily as he placed the bacon onto the table.

"There's no post on Sunday!" Just then there was a rustle of paper. Something came down the kitchen chimney and caught him on the back of the head. Next moment, thirty or forty letters came bustling from the fireplace. The Dursleys ducked, but Harry jumped into the air in hopes of catching just one.

"Out! OUT!"

Uncle Vernon seized Harry around the waist and threw him into the hall. When Aunt Petunia and Dudley had run out with their arms over their faces, Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut. They could hear the letters still streaming into the room, bouncing off the walls and floor.

Harry was forced to pack bags before Uncle Vernon whisked them into the car and drove them to a hotel. Dudley grumbled underneath his breath as Harry unpacked the few toys he had managed to bring. Much of their stuff was left behind in Number 4 Privet Drive in Uncle Vernon's haste. 

That night, Harry slept on the floor beside Dudley, not that it mattered because it turned out to be the last night there when the letters appeared the next morning. They had just finished their stale cornflakes when the owner of the hotel came over to their table.

“ ’Scuse me, but is one of you Mr. H. Potter? Only I got about an ’undred of these at the front desk.”

Harry was once again glad for his lack of sight when he heard Uncle Vernon's angry protests, knowing full well that his face must be purple with anger.

-

Chilled to the bone, Harry waited for Dudley's watch to signal his birthday. He blew out his imaginary candles on the floor of the Hut on the Rock where they were now staying. It was raining hard outside and at first, Harry thought it was the thunder that is shaking the house until a loud bam rattles the door. With a creak, it collapsed and with all the noise, Harry caught a glimpse of the silhouette of a giant that stood in the doorway. 

Within moments, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon arrived with a gun.

"I'm armed!" 

"Make us a cup 'o tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey..." His voice was as loud as his steps and he took a step forward toward the couch where Dudley now sat upright. He ran off to hide behind his mother who was hiding behind his father. 

"An' here's Harry! Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby," he said. "Yeh look a lot like yeh dad, but yeh've got yeh mom's eyes." Despite Uncle Vernon's blubbering, the giant continued to talk.

"Anyway, Harry, a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat for yeh, I mighta sat on it at some point but it'll taste alright." There was a rustling before a box was placed into his hands. The smell of chocolate wafted into his nose and he felt his stomach grumble. 

Knowing it was a cake, Harry meant to say thank you but instead said,

"Who are you?"

"True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts." His handshake shook all of Harry's arm. There was a slight rustle before a light went off and lit a fire. The shimmer of that light reminded Harry of his- his magic. It sounded like he pulled out numerous items before he placed something into the fire. 

Harry ate the sausages 'Rubeus Hagrid' gave to him, savoring the taste happily. 

"I'm sorry, but I still don't know who you are." 

"Call me Hagrid," he said, "everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts...yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, o' course."

"Er...no," said Harry. Hagrid was quiet for a second in what Harry could only assume was anger.

"Sorry," Harry said quickly, hoping he didn't upset the giant.

"It's them as should be sorry! I knew yeh weren't gettin' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yet parents learned it all?" 

"All what?" asked Harry. 

"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thundered. "Now wait jus' one second!" He had leapt to his feet. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole hut. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall. 

"Do you mean ter tell me," he growled at the Dursleys, "that this boy-this boy!-knows nothin' abou' -about ANYTHING?"  Harry felt indignity rush through him, burning his ears.

"I know some things. I know math and stuff."

"About our world, I mean. Your world. My world. Yer parents' world." 

"What world?" Slowly, he ws starting to piece the parts together.

"DURSLEY!" he boomed. A whimper came from Uncle Vernon before Hagrid continued. "But yeh must know about yet mom and dad," he said. "I mean, they're famous. You're famous."

"What? M-my mom and dad weren't famous, were they?" 

"Yeh don' know... yeh don' know..." Hagrid sounded bewildered. "Yeh don' know what yeh are?" he asked finally.  

"Stop!" Uncle Vernon commanded. "Stop right there! I forbid you to tell the boy anything!" 

When Hagrid spoke, his every syllable trembled with rage. "You never told him? Never told him what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer him? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An' you've kept it from him all these years?" 

"Kept what from me?" said Harry eagerly. _'He knew your parents. Your parents were famous. It might be because of your magic!'_

"STOP! I FORBID YOU!" yelled Uncle Vernon in panic. Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror. Apparently, Hagrid didn't give a flying ding dong about what Uncle Vernon forbade because he continued.

"Harry, yer a wizard."


	6. Escape From The Hut

**6: Escape From The Hut**

The sound of the storm outside continued and Harry could just make out his Aunt Petunia's whimpering through the thudding of his own heart. He traced his fingertips carefully above the braille of the letter Hagrid had handed him.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins September 1. We await your owl no later than July 31._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall,_

_Deputy Headmistress_

"A wizard...?"His voice was barely above a whisper and was almost drowned out by the howling of the wind.

_'What does it mean by awaiting your owl?'_ He hadn't meant to say it aloud but he must of because suddenly Hagrid was writing out a message and then handed it to the flutter of wings that Harry could only assume was an owl.

"He will not go. I forbid it! We swore we'd put a stop to that rubbish when we took him in! Swore to stomp it out of him if we had to." Harry winced as he remembered the punishments for his magic-his magic he had to stop in fear of punishments.

Hagrid scoffed. "I'd like to see a muggle like you stop him."

"A what?"

"Muggle, it's what we call nonmagic folk."

"It's not a slur is it?"

"'Course not. Jus' simple fact, they're muggles and we're wizards."

"How could you not be, my horrid sister, being the way she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that-that wretched place. I was the only one who saw her for what she was-a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!" Aunt Petunia's voice got louder as she ranted, practically shaking with anger by the time she finished. Harry's immediate response was to detach himself when he began to hear her raise her voice.

"-blown up and we got stuck with you!" When he zoned back in he caught the end of her continued rant.

"Blown up? You said they died in a car crash..."

"Car crash! How could a car kill Lily an' James!" Hagrid's angry muttering seemed to fill and shake the hut.

"What happened to them, really?" Hagrid seemed to sigh in defeat.

"Never 'spected this. Dumbledore never said..." Hagrid placed a large hand onto his shoulder and began to explain the long tale of his parents' undeserving end. He explained Voldemort and his demise, the truth behind Harry's scar, and how Hagrid brought him to the Dursley's doorstep. When Uncle Vernon began to mutter obscenities about his parents and how he should have beat the strangeness out of him harder, Hagrid leaped up with an umbrella clutched in his hand. Uncle Vernon fell silent.

Hagrid continued on, explaining how no one knew what really happened that night, just that Voldemort was gone. Harry had no hard time believing in magic, it had been around him for all his life but he couldn't understand how he was strong enough to defeat this  _monster_ that Hagrid described. He couldn't escape the Dursley's, couldn't even  _see_ most of the time.

A wizard. Bullocks, Mathias was going to have kittens when he found out. Wait, what was he going to tell Mathias? That he was sorry but he would have to leave to a school called  _Hogwarts_? Was he even going to see him again, being away on the Hut on the Rock? Would the Dursley's even  ** _let him_**  go to learn magic when they had spent his entire life trying to force it out of him?

Uncle Vernon's voice cut into his thoughts.

"Haven't I told you he isn't going? He should be grateful we took him in with all his oddities. We're not paying for all the nonsense asked on that letter!"

"And a great Muggle like you is gonna stop 'im are ye? He'll be with youngsters of 'is sort fer a change, taught by the greatest headmaster Hogwarts has ever had, Albus Dumbl-"

"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH HIM MAGIC TRICKS!" Hagrid was up in an instant.

"NEVER-INSULT-ALBUS-DUMBLEDORE-IN-FRONT-OF-ME!" There was another flash of a purple-a shade of it that Harry couldn't name-accompanied by a sharp crack and a squeal. The Dursleys were gone with a slam of a door.

"Meant to turn 'im into a pig but I s'pose that he was already much like one. I'm not s'pose to be doin' magic, don' mention that when we get to Hogwarts." Harry knew better than to ask questions but Hagrid had been very efficient in answering all his other questions so he did.

"Why not?"

"I-er-got expelled. My wand was snapped in two. Dumbledore-great man Dumbledore-kept me as gamekeeper."

"Expelled? Why?"

"It's gettin' late. We have a long day ahead of us 'morrow. Here, take this. Don' mind if it wiggles a bit." He placed his coat over his shoulders. Despite bubbling with excitement, Harry found his eyes shut in exhaustion.

-

When Harry awoke he was afraid he'd be back in his cupboard after a dream. The nipping at his hair said otherwise. His hand tentatively stretched over and was met with feathers. He sat up abruptly, bumping into Hagrid as he did so.

"Hagrid?"

"Pay him. There are five knuts in one of the pockets."

"Knuts?"

"The little bronze ones."

"...Hagrid I can't-er-I'm blind so if you could describe the shape better that would help."

"Gulping Gargoyles, slipped my mind." He placed a coin into his hand, letting Harry trace the shape and feel its weight so that Harry could find four more to give the owl.

"Best be off now if we want to get all yer supplies for Hogwarts."

"Hagrid, I don't have any money, much less wizard money. Besides, Uncle Vernon said he wouldn't be paying for me." Hagrid chuckled.

"Yer parents left yeh money, Harry. All safe at Gringotts, our first stop." Harry absent-mindedly cut his cake from yesterday to share while Hagrid passed him a sausage. He must have seen the confusion on his face because he explained that Gringotts was the wizarding bank-the only one, much to Harry's wonder-which was run by Goblins.

"Yeah-so yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell yeh that. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe....'cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o' fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business." He sounded proud of it so Harry didn't question it. They got outside and Hagrid helped him into the boat, explaining that he had flown there. Harry wondered how it was that something could carry someone as big as Hagrid, but decided it would be rude to ask. He was ecstatic when he got to see a spark of light when Hagrid used his magic to speed up the small boat.

Hagrid complaints about the Ministry of Magic, awe-filled chatter of his desire for a dragon and compliments of Albus Dumbledore filled the peaceful trip as they reached the shore.

-

He complained once they got out of their seats of the underground. He held his arm out and walked extra-slow, guiding Harry through London before coming to a stop outside a building. Harry clicked his tongue in an attempt to see the wizard entrance that Hagrid had explained to him.

Before his eyes, sparks of color glimmered around a worn and dark pub. Hagrid led them inside. Harry's vision left once more as he heard a man's voice to his left.

"The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on official Hogwarts business." He shook his guiding arm, causing Harry to stumble as he attempted to stand upright. There was an eerie silence before the bartender spoke again.

"Merlin, it's-it's Harry Potter!" Then there was a flurry of movement and voices that Harry couldn't keep track of. His head felt like it was splitting and he took a step behind Hagrid as he pushed through the many outstretched hands.

"Professor Quirrell! Harry, this is Professor Quirrell. He'll be one of your professors at Hogwarts."

Harry stuck out his hand and felt as Professor Quirrell's shaking palm grasped him in a nervous manner.

"P-P-Potter," he stammered. "c-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you."

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor?"

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," he murmured, sounding as though he'd rather forget.

"N-not that you n-need it eh, P-P-Potter?" he let out a nervous laugh. "You'll be g-getting your s-school supplies, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a book on v-vampires myself." He sounded terrified but with that, he excused himself before Harry was once more surrounded by voices.

People clutched his hand and pulled at his sleeves, he almost dropped his cane many times. Hagrid must have seen the panicked look on his face because he began to push the crowd back, leading him out through the exit. He explained how after Professor Quirrell got some 'firsthand experience' on a year off and had been scared of his own shadow ever since.

"Three up...two across..." There was a tapping sound and suddenly Harry saw a flash of color again. The light turned and twisted and Harry could see the outline of the wall moving away to reveal a narrow street of bustling noise. He felt the breath leave his lungs and his eyes ache from all of the lights touching his sensitive eyes. He pushed his sunglasses farther up his face.

Most blind people maintained some of their vision, which usually only meant light sensitivity. Harry had minimal light sensitivity, leaning more toward the ten percent of blind people who saw total darkness but magic was like his light, and for the first time in his life he was getting loads of it. His eyes ached for it and because of it.

"Welcome," Hagrid's voice cut through his thoughts. "to Diagon Alley."


	7. Diagon Alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry goes to Gringotts and makes his first wizard...friend?

**7: Diagon Alley**

There were so many colors that Harry had a hard time trying to remember the names of some. Vaguely he could remember Mathias telling him the difference between red and orange. 

The sun reflected off something metallic on the outside of a store, Hagrid told him they were cauldrons.

He guided Harry to Gringotts, passing the Apothecary and a few children chatting happily about 'a Nimbus Two-Thousand'. With all the lights, Harry could make out the shape of a very very short person.

"That's a goblin." Hagrid's whisper sounded like a shout. He let Harry spend a few minutes tracing the words by the door.

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there_

There were more metallic surfaces here, reflecting the magic's lights. Harry watched as two shadows bowed and hastily bowed back as Hagrid guided him along to the front desk.

"Morning, we've come ter take some money outta Mr. Potter's vault."

"You have his key, Sir?"

"Got it here somewhere." There was a rustling before Hagrid let out a triumphant 'got it!'

"This seems to be in order."

"An' I have a letter from Professor Dumbledore, it's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen." Again, Hagrid whispers echoed loudly.

"Very well. Griphook!" Another shadow appeared and soon they were riding a fast rollercoaster. Or at least it felt like it. The wind rustling by made Harry excited yet frightened at the same time. He tried to ask Hagrid what the 'You-Know-What' was but was told it was a secret. The air began getting colder and they were heading more steeply down. Once in Harry's vault, Hagrid placed each coin into his hands, letting him drop them into the bag himself.

_'If the Dursley's knew about all this money, they would have introduced you to magic earlier. How often did they tell you that you were a waste of money? Too many to count.'_

Hagrid guided him back to the cart before they headed to vault seven hundred thirteen. Harry watched in awe as the magic weaved itself apart to let the vault open. Harry expected to see glittering lights of coins or magic but the dullness of ordinary came in shape of a small boxed shadow.

-

Getting off of the cart, Hagrid sounded just as queasy. He kept staggering as he led Harry and guided Harry up to the door, placed his hand onto the door before staggering again.

"Listen, Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts' carts." Truthfully, Harry did mind. He would rather not be left in an unknown location and then have to ride back with a drunk giant. However, he reasoned that Hagrid had done enough and he should let him be unburdened for a moment, however short. So he nodded before stepping in.

"Hogwarts, dear?" A woman's voice asked. Harry nodded. "Got the lot here, another young man being fitted just now, in fact." He followed her voice carefully towards a stand before having a cloth draped over his head. He let the lady adjust it and collapsed his cane to keep it from bothering.

"Hello," said, who Harry assumed was, the boy. "Hogwarts, too?" Harry nodded in his general direction. Despite the magic, this store had less light than Gringotts and so Harry found it hard to make out the stranger's shape. He let his eyes rest near the direction where his voice came from. He's been told many times that he had great eye contact for a blind person, though that was because his Aunt and Uncle had made sure to make his blindness less noticeable.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. Despite being reminded of Dudley, Harry was eager to make a wizard friend.

"Then, I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow. Have you got your own broom?"

"No."

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No." Was that a board game? Perhaps a game played on a broom if it followed the broom question.

"I do, Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I do agree. Know what house you'll be in?" Despite his drawling voice, Harry could make out the nervous rambling. Mathias had the same problem when he was nervous or didn't know an answer in class, a nonstop chatter to fill in awkward silences. Maybe this boy was just as worried about making friends.

"No." He responded again.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be Slytherin, all our family has been. Imagine being Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?" Harry had no idea what in Uncle Vernon's name a Hufflepuff was.

"I don't think so, I mean, judging a house without knowing anything about it is rather...illinformed. Making stereotypes about a group of people based on a small amount can be...adverse." He had heard these very words said to Aunt Petunia at the doctor when she asked why Harry shouldn't wear sunglasses. The doctor had explained that simply because a person was blind did not mean they had to dress or behave a certain way. Despite this, Aunt Petunia had demanded that he get a pair because his unfocused gaze was 'detestable' and 'strange'. Although Harry had heard her tell Uncle Vernon it was because they looked like his mom's.

The boy was quiet and Harry began to question if he said something wrong before the lady tapped his shoulder, telling him Hagrid would be waiting outside when they were done with a few more measures.

"Why is he with you? I mean, where are your parents?" The boy finally spoke again.

"They're dead." Was there any softer way to say that?

"Oh...sorry. But they were our kind, right? I mean-"  _'Does he mean wizards? That is how Hagrid referred to you going to the wizard school with your 'sort', wasn't it?'_

"I don't know much about them, I live with my Aunt and Uncle who don't really speak about them." If anything, lying to Mathias helped Harry become very vague with his answers.

"Oh." There was a sound like the boy wanted to ask another question but thought better of it, letting only a slight strangled breath.

"That's you done, my dear." The lady grasped his elbow and helped him off the stand.

"I'll see you at Hogwarts...?" The boy called out, sounding more like a question than a statement.

"You will." Harry collapsed his cane and was led out of the store.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to keep most of the dialogue the same but with Harry much more willing to speak his mind and more observant. Tell me what you think so far. 
> 
> Also, I might not be updating in a while due to midterms coming up.


	8. Bad Luck & The Platform

**8: Bad Luck & The Platform**

Harry had a handful of 'pets'. He had a small family of spiders in the cupboard that he sang to before he had been moved to his room, a worm that was crushed by Dudley when he was eight, and a grass snake he had found, hidden behind the shed and begged to get away to safety. He never saw her again.

He had asked for a guide dog when he was five after going to tour a blind school. Aunt Petunia said that the money would be wasted because he could simply to go to public school for free.  Apparently, training a guide dog was very expensive and unless you bought it or had it donated by a charity, the likelihood of having the insurance pay for it was nonexistent. Besides,  _'wasn't it already enough of a burden to have to feed one unwanted stray?'_ Why should  _she_ pay for another? 

Harry had convinced himself over the years that he was perfectly happy without a pet, told himself that he couldn't possibly share his cramped cupboard with it. He was  _glad_ no animal had to suffer the torment his relatives inflicted on him. Yet, every Christmas and every birthday he waited and watched and hoped for a dog. For a present that wasn't crumpled up wrapping paper or torn up clothing.

Hagrid had been a blessing, the wizard-god had seen Harry's suffering and thought 'Not anymore.' Stroking his owl's feathers, he felt like his bad luck had finally ended. 

Yes,  _his_ owl. A pet, a companion for  _him_. Hagrid said she was a white snowy owl. The entire trip had felt like a dream, a dream that he was afraid to wake up from. So Harry continued to pet his snowy owl as he headed toward the last shop on their list and tried to ground himself.

He continued to stutter out his thanks even as they reached the brightest store on the street. It lit up with so many colors and lights, Harry was afraid his sunglasses had broken. He shut his eyes momentarily to get rid of the fireworks that seemed to radiate from the wand shop. Ollivander's, Hagrid had called it.

He felt his heart in his throat as he approached the door, careful not to wake the soft owl perched on his shoulder. Lights peeked through cracks of, what appeared to be, boxes. A quiet shuffling alerted Harry that someone else was within the room. A quiet and soft voice greeted him.

"Hello," Harry replied, not wanting to be rude. He felt as the figure approached him, getting so close he could feel his breath on his nose.

"Harry Potter. Yes yes yes. I have been expecting to see you here. Ah yes, your eyes. Much like your mother's. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand." His voice was frail and came out like a whisper.

"You remember my mother?"

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter." Harry let out a breath in awe.

"Even the one that..." He trailed off and in one swift movement placed the pad of his finger over the scarred tissue below Harry's glasses. He took a step back from the wandmaker and pushed his glasses farther up his nose in an attempt to hide the scar beneath them.

"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do...." He shook his head, flicking his locks near Harry's face.

"Enough about the past, I'm sure you are very excited to meet your own." With a small shiver, Harry stepped forward and began the laborious task of finding a wand.

The first was snatched out of his hands before he even waved it and the second sent out a spark of red, vivid and mad as it struck something and smashed it. After what seemed like ten more, Harry was beginning to think he wasn't meant to get a wand, then Ollivander placed one into his hand. Immediately, it felt warmer. Harry carefully rubbed his finger on the groves of it before flicking his wrist. The soft green he had gotten used to calling his magic erupted from the tip.

Ollivander began his happy muttering.

"Yes, indeed. Curious, curious indeed."

"What's curious, sir?"

Learning that his wand had a brother and that it belonged to Voldemort was definitely not the highlight of his trip to Diagon Alley. He thought about Ollivander's words even as Hagrid handed him his ticket and reminded him that the first of September he would have to come to the train station to board the Hogwarts Express. 

_"The wand chooses the wizard, remember... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter... After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things...terrible, yes, but great."_

Harry groaned, pulling his worn blanket over his head in an attempt to quiet the ongoing thoughts that had plagued his mind since leaving the wand shop. Maybe his bad luck was making a final comeback before being gone for good. 

-

The month was slow and dreadful with the Dursleys. They had a silent agreement to ignore him now that they weren't punishing him with chores or starving him.

Still, Aunt Petunia made it her mission to rearrange the furniture every few days to mess with Harry. Letting him crash into objects and gain bruises every now and then. At least she wasn't rearranging his room. Usually, he stayed up in his room and caressed Hedwig's feathers.  

Hagrid said that the Deputy Headmistress had specially ordered his Braille texts to Flourish and Blotts when she had heard of his vision impairment. He had finally begun to read them and in the weeks that lead up to September first, Harry read his books over and over again. He had named Hedwig after a Saint from 'Hogwarts, A History' because despite not being religious, he felt warmth when he read that this Saint had raised many orphans. Orphans much like himself.

Hedwig and reading kept him distracted and he was eager to have something to distract himself now that Mathias was back in Thailand. His grandmother was finally healthy enough to travel and so they flew with her back and stayed with her for the remainder of the summer.

Mathias had been ecstatic about wizard school when Harry had told him one afternoon behind the playground. 

"I'm sorry but  _Hogwarts_? You're pulling my leg, right? Having me on?" Harry smiled and shook his head. Mathias chuckled.

"Well, it will work out I guess. Oh! After school, you can teach me all you learned at your Hogwarts and I'll tell you all about the art class! When are your classes over anyway? I might be able to convince my parents could pick you up? We'd probably have to double check with your Aunt and Uncle..." He trailed off, knowing that Harry was rather evasive about his family.

"About that...Hogwarts is a year-long abroad school. I'll be leaving on the first and won't be back until school is over for summer."

"Abroad? Abroad where?" When Harry remained silent, Mathias grinned.

"Oh, is it a...secret?"

"Well it might be, I just don't know." They both laughed at that and before they knew it, it was time for Mathias to go. Harry made sure not to mention anything else about Hogwarts or Diagon Alley just in case it  _was_ a secret.

-

Harry knew he had forgotten something as Uncle Vernon practically threw his luggage out of the car on September first. Hedwig screeched softly as he tried to navigate his way while pushing his trolley at the same time. The train whistles that echoed throughout helped see most things but he still found himself tripping on his feet as he frantically looked for someone to guide him to the right train.

It was a good thing he was there early enough to get lost. He waited patiently beside a worker who could guide him or direct him toward the right platform.

"Is this some kind of joke? Pretend to be blind and ask for platform nine and three-quarters? You kids get worse every year." She grumbled before turning to help someone look for their bag. 

 _This is fine, not the first time you've had to rely on yourself._ He thought warily. 

After stumbling past a few more platforms, he saw a bright light much like the one that he saw at the Leaky Cauldron. Had Hagrid said how to get to the other side? Was there a magic word? A spell? 

Meanwhile, Molly Weasley masterfully steered her herd of children through the crowd of muggles around King Cross Station. She came to an abrupt stop when she reached her destination. There, at the wall three-quarters between nine and ten, was a scrawny boy. One hand gripping onto his trolley and the other clutching a cane. He was thin, thinner than her Ronald and seemed to tremble with anxiety. Her heart ached when she saw others shove past him and noticed there wasn't any sign of his parents.

The white owl perched in a cage squawked and she made up her mind. Readjusting her grip on Ginny's hand, she briskly began to walk toward the raven-haired boy mindful not to scare him off.

"Now, what's the platform number?" She asked, loud enough to get Harry to turn. She squeezed Ginny's hand and gave her a Look.

"Nine and three-quarters!"

"Mum, you couldn't possibly have forg-"

"Percy, you go first." He threw her a look at the interruption but passed through the wall regardless.

"Fred, you next."

"I'm George, honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother?"

"Sorry, George."

"Only joking, I am Fred." Harry watched as their matching silhouettes walked through the wall, one after the other. Mustering up the sliver of courage he had, he stepped forward.

"Excuse me, ma'am."

"Oh hello, dear. First time at Hogwarts? Ron is too." Despite knowing the answer, she asked regardless and made sure to mention that Ron so that he wouldn't feel too out of place. His sunglasses blocked his eyes but looking at him brought a sense of familiarity. 

"I-er-yes. Yes, ma'am. I just don't know how to cross exactly. Is there a spell?" 

"Not at all dear, simply walk through. Straight ahead."

"A-alright. Thank you." He shuffled nervously before carefully crossing through, one step after the other. She turned to her youngest son. Just before he was about to walk through the wall, she pulled him back slightly.

"Ronald, keep an eye on him, alright? Poor dear was shaking like a leaf."

"'Course, mum. I'll say that everywhere else was full." She gave him a proud smile and all three of them walked onto Platform Nine and Three-quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was really rushed and I'm sorry


	9. Houses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The train ride to Hogwarts gets a little intense.

**9: Houses**

Harry didn’t have any siblings. His Aunt Petunia had told him many times before that it was because his mother had had enough after him and then had ended up dead with her drunkard husband. He had the misfortune of pointing out that Dudley was also an only child. His ribs had ached after that.

Now that he knew the truth about his parents, he felt a deep ache within his heart. He could have had parents, a sibling, a family.

He could remember the first few years he had spent with the Dursleys, hoping and praying his father or mother would swoop in, open the door to his cupboard and hold him close. Harry could remember the times he heard a kid complain about their parent’s nagging and wishing he could remember his parent’s voices. Every career day and parent-teacher conference.

It seemed hard to believe that his parents cared for him, had loved him enough to put his life before their own. It didn’t seem fair.

Still, he felt his envy rise as he heard the twins say their farewells to their mother and sister. He vaguely heard as they promised a toilet seat for their sister only to be scolded by their mother and he found himself smiling.

Shortly after introducing themselves, Fred and George helped Harry find a compartment at the end of the train. They saluted, which went unnoticed by Harry and excuse themselves.

“We’re gonna head out now-”

“Lee’s got a spider-”

“And we need to see if he’ll let us borrow it-”

“For innocent, research purposes, of course.”

Their almost identical voices cackled in unison as their younger brother groaned in despair. While their steps receded happily, Harry could make out their brother’s shuffled steps by the door.

"Er-I...can I sit with you? Everywhere else is full."

"Sure."

"I'm Ron, Ron Weasley."

"Harry." He stuck his hand out and accidentally whacked into Ron's. After an awkward fumbling of arms, they shook hands. He pushed his glasses further up his face scared that his eyes might bother his new friend. Would his eyes scare him off? Would he hide his cane from him like Dudley? Friends? Did Ron even think Harry was a friend? Maybe-

"Blimey! You're-you're Harry! Harry Potter!"

"...er-yea."

"You...your scar! I'd only ever heard stories about it but blimey, it's wicked!" His excited voice quickly deflated and adopted an insecure tone. "...could I see it?"

Harry felt his eyes widen slightly. He normally only ever took his sunglasses off around Mathias. And that was only because he constantly reminded Harry that his eyes didn't bother him.

"I...sure." Hesitantly, he took them off and carefully folded them and held them in his lap. He kept his gaze where he had last heard Ron's voice and hoped he wasn't too off.

"Wicked." He breathed. Harry felt his lips twitch into a smile.

"Do you remember what  _he_  looked like?" His voice had dropped once again.

"No. I don't remember what much of what anything looked like. I mean colors are easier but faces are pretty much lost by now. I can't remember what I look like." He was tempted to say something about his Sight but then thought better of it. After all, Harry was used to keeping secrets to minimize the consequences.

"Wait, you're blind?"

"I thought you...knew?" It was suddenly quiet, impossibly quiet and Harry felt as his fingers began to clutch his shades.

"Well...I do now." Relief flooded into his bloodstream and he felt himself smile.

"Is that what your cane is for?"

"Yea, but I can use echolocation, too."

"Echolocation? What's that?"

"I make a sound and listen to the echo of it bouncing off surfaces to determine what the room looks like."

"Wicked. Is that a muggle thing? Can all muggles use echolocation?"

"I'm sure that if they needed to, they would. Why use it if you can see? Kind of defeats the purpose."

"Do they teach you at muggle blind school?"

"Er- there are schools for the blind but they can get pricey which is why I just learned in public school. I meet a social worker annually to make sure I'm getting taught the right skills."

"Pricey? Why won't your relatives just pay for it?" He seemed hesitant to ask.

"Well, I did only find out I had money a month ago, besides, I doubt they would, considering I always wear my cousin's clothes second-hand."

"I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers."

"Five?"

"Yea, I'm the sixth to go to Hogwarts but everyone expects me to do as well as the others. My oldest brother, Bill, was Head Boy, Charlie was Quidditch captain, Percy is Prefect and even the twins get decent grades. I just don't want to disappoint them but I know that no matter what I do, it won't matter cause they've already done it before." He rattled on in a half-angry half-sad rant before sheepishly letting out a 'sorry'.

"It's fine," Harry responded. It really was, he knew what it was like to have to continuously prove yourself to a family that didn't seem to notice. Harry hoped that Ron knew his family cared about him, which was more than what Harry could say for himself.

 They stayed in silence for a while, Harry could hear a form of scratching coming from near Ron but before he could ask, there was a loud shuffling outside the door accompanied by talking.

"Anything off the cart, dears?"

"No thanks, I have a sandwich." Came Ron's meek reply.

With a new determination, Harry ordered a few of everything. He turned to Ron and held out his palm, offering sweets.

"Er-you don't have to."

"I want to."

"...I don't-"

"Come on, someone has to tell me which ones taste the best."

"...Thanks."

-

"Those are chocolate frogs."

"Are they real frogs?"

"No, just charmed that way. Here just pull this and- catch it!"

"Oops."

"Oh hey, you got Dumbledore. I have about six of him."

"What?"

"Right, sorry. The chocolates come with cards most people collect them. I could-er- read it for you?"

"Yes, please."

"Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling."

"Wow, Hagrid wasn't kidding when he said Dumbledore did everything."

"Who?"

"Hagrid, he took me to get my supplies."

"I think I know him. One of dad's friends, I think."

-

"Eugh- sprouts!" Ron spit out the candy in his mouth.

"They really do have every flavor, huh?" Harry lifted a hand to cover his snickering.

"Yea, Fred swears he-" There was a knock on the door before it slid open.

"Sorry, but have you seen a toad?" The voice sniffed. Ron must have shaken his head because the voice only sobbed louder. "I've lost him! Gran's gonna kill me!"

"I'm sure he's around here. I'd help look but I wouldn't be much help. Sorry."

"Yea, you're probably right." He wiped his nose before miserably sliding the door shut.

"I forgot toads were on the list."

"I brought Scabbers, not that it matters when he sleeps like the dead. George taught me to turn him yellow, here I'll show-oh." Ron lowered his wand abashedly. Harry opened his mouth to reassure him it was fine when the door was slammed open once more.

"Have you seen a toad? Neville's- oh are you doing magic? Let's see it then."

"I don't-"He glanced nervously at Harry.

"Ron, it's fine. Really, I don't mind."

"Why would you? Do you have a magic phobia or-" She cut off abruptly and seemed to realize, "That's a white cane." 

"Yea."

"Are you visually impaired?"

"I am."

"I didn't mean that in a bad way. I used to help out in the special education class, so I have experience with the visually impaired. I've read a lot about it actually. Did you know there are also disabled wizards? There are a few famous wizards and witches that are disabled. Speaking of famous wizards, did you know that Headmaster Dumbledore was a Gryffindor?" She rambled on, jumping from one subject to the next without many transitions.

"Er-yea. and Merlin was Slytherin, right?" Harry could vaguely remember reading something or another about Merlin. 

"Was he really? Do you know what house you'll end up in? Gryffindor sounds the best, I guess Ravenclaw wouldn't be so bad either."

"Well, I read that each house is what's best for the person. I'm not sure where I'll end up, I just hope that I get into a house." 

"As long as I'm not in Slytherin. That where all the dark wizards come from." Ron interjected, feeling left out.

"You-Know-Who was in Slytherin." The girl pointed out.

"It seems wrong to judge a whole house on only a handful of members don't you think?" Suddenly, Harry felt like he was reliving a moment. He thought about it for a moment before he remembered the conversation he had with the boy in the robe shop. 

"I mean all houses have their good and their bad, You-Know-Who was awful but Merlin founded the Order of Merlin which was to help people. I'm sure there are bad wizards and witches from all the houses." The other two were quiet. Harry fiddled with the edge of his cane. This felt too similar to the conversation with the other boy.

"I...suppose you're right. I hadn't given it much thought I guess. Slytherin is just...misunderstood? Misrepresented?"

"...Misunderstood...?" Ron whispered on the other side. "I guess..." 

"While this has been a good discussion, I should go back to helping Neville find his toad. You two should change, we'll be there soon." She was gone as quickly as she arrived with a slam of the door.

-

"Ron?"

"Yea?"

"If we end up in different houses, will you- I mean- will we-can we still be friends?"

Ron's eyes widened. Friends? He wanted to be friends, with Ron? Plain, simple and poor Ron?

"Of course!" Ron grinned and Harry let out a breath of relief.

-

"I'm sure you could still learn."

"I want to but if I can't see, it will just make it embarrassing."

"Can't you use your echolocation?"

"I've never really tried-" The door was slid open one more.

"Is it true? That Harry Potter is in this compartment?"

"Your voice sounds familiar, have we met before?"

"Have we met? We-you're the boy. The one from Madame Malkin's robe shop, aren't you?  _You're_ Harry Potter?"

"Hi, nice to meet- or is it remeet- you. I'm Harry Potter and you are?"

"Draco Malfoy." He held out his hand and accidentally whacked Draco's. He heard Ron snort from the other seat.

"What? Think my name is funny, do you? I don't have to ask yours, your appearance says it all, you must be a Weasley."

"Why you-"

"Ron, don't. Apologize."

"What but I-"

"Ron."

"...sorry." He said through grit teeth. He heard Draco chuckle from the door.

"You too Draco."

"Excuse me?"

"Ron shouldn't have laughed but you shouldn't have disrespected him either."

"I will not do something as embarrassing as apologizing to a Weasley."

"Well, you know where the door is don't you?"

"I-what?"

"Why are you still not wearing your robes?" Harry could hear the girl from before. "The conductor said that we'll be there soon-" Just as she said that, the intercom notified them that they would arrive in five minutes.

"Get dressed, oh, by the way, you have dirt on your nose." She walked away again, leaving Harry, Ron, and Draco at the door. Harry sighed, this couldn't get worse. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might rewrite this (supppeerr rushed but I hadn't written in a while so). I just realized how much dialogue this has omg


	10. The Sorting

**10: The Sorting**

Harry didn't like to fight, he had learned the repercussions to talking out of place or sharing his opinions very early in his life. He preferred passive-aggressive responses and witty comments over retaliating physically. It was a known fact that Harry could barely defend himself. When he did fight, it usually consisted of flailing of arms and aimless kicks.

Not only that, Harry missed most if not all body language. During most conversations, he had a hard time following and would often misinterpret conversations. His Sight had helped with that somewhat but it tired him out too quickly and would often give him a throbbing migraine afterward.

That being said, he was sure Draco was still standing in the doorway after the girl had left and he was pretty sure he and Ron were having a glaring contest with one another. His earlier confidence was beginning to fade rapidly and he still needed to get changed. Mathias always said Harry had a good poker face when he needed it. He forced his face to remain passive as he cleared his throat.

"If you're not going to apologize, you should go, we need to dress out."

"You're choosing Weasel over me?" It sounded almost as if he was trying to remain calm.

"His name is Ron and I wouldn't have to choose if you weren't such an arse."

"Me? I hardly did anything.  _He_ started laughing at my name." He sounded defensive, almost as if trying to prove a point.

"And he apologized, which I haven't heard you do for what you said about him."

"Fine!" He took a deep breath. "...I'm...s-sorry. There, happy?"

"Quite." Came Ron's smug reply.

"Do you need to go get your robes?" Harry wanted to steer them away from another argument.

"I'm wearing them. What are you, blind?" It was probably a joke but, as said before, Harry was a witty, passive-aggressive blind boy.

"Yea."

"O-oh." He sounded as uncomfortable as he had when Harry had told him his parents were dead that day in the robe shop.

"Is that a problem?" Ron's voice asked.

"No, not at all." It sounded to Harry like Draco was gritting his teeth but he couldn't be sure.

"...right. Can someone bring down my trunk?"

"I'll do it." They both said before stumbling over the seat to bring down his trunk. There was a thud and he heard Draco cover up a snort.

"Here you go, Harry."

He and Ron dressed out and into their school robes, Harry frantically began to button up his cloak when he heard the announcement that reminded them to leave their luggage on the train. Draco helped adjust his tie right as the train came to a stop. Walking out of the compartment, Harry crashed into a body.

"Oh, sorry I didn't know there was anyone out here."

"Don't worry about them. That's Crabbe and that's Goyle. Crabbe, Goyle, this is Harry Potter."

"Hi." He gave a small awkward wave. There was no answer.

He used his cane to guide himself down the aisle before Ron helped him step off the train.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?" Hagrid's loud voice boomed and Harry had to force himself not to cringe away.

Over the bustling and chatter of children, he could hear the quiet lapping of water hitting the shore. Harry had never been to the beach but Mathias had once brought him a shell to press to his ear and trace. When he had placed it over his ear, Mathias had said that's what the ocean sounded like. Uncle Vernon watched enough documentaries late at night that confirmed the ocean sounds. Draco helped Harry into the boat and they stayed seated as the boats began to move.

-

The ride was silent, only the sound of water hitting the boat and the occasional chatter but nothing loud enough to cut through the quiet wind. Harry took in deep breaths to try to calm his rapidly beating heart.

"Hogwarts is just' round the bend here!" There were excited cheers as the other children around Harry saw the castle.

Across the dark lake say the sturdy walls of Hogwarts. The towers stretched up into the sky of stars. Within each window that was visible, the little twinkling of candles blinked through. There were hushed exclamations of awe around the boats and Harry felt an ache of envy. He could just barely make out the light from the candles.

"Blimey, it really is beautiful, huh?" Harry stayed silent.

He had the urge to use his Sight and echolocation to see it but thought he'd rather save his energy for inside the castle. He was going to have to memorize the halls and steps and he'd rather use his magic for something beneficial than to just see something pretty. Still, he felt an ache at every comment and gasp as they began to disembark the boats.

Neville must have been reunited with his toad at some point because Hagrid reminded him to keep it with him before he knocked heavily onto the door they had reached. Immediately, Harry heard it slam open and the clicking of heels follow.

"Thank you Hagrid, I can take it from here." Her voice had a strong Scottish undertone and held a primness that Harry associated with stern teachers.

They followed her, their steps echoing within the hall before they reached a staircase.

_"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room._

She paused as if to let the importance of what she said to sink in.

_"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours._

Harry was glad that at least the teachers here didn't seem to have a prejudice against any house. He hoped that Ron, Draco, and the girl took note of what he had said to them before. Despite the reassurance from Ron, he felt that if he ended up in different houses from them, they'd definitely hold him up to the stereotypes.

_"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting. I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly." She left the chamber._

Harry pushed his shades up his nose, ignored the slight pinch from the broken frame and readjusted his tie. Suddenly, it felt tight and Harry could feel his palms begin to sweat.

"I heard we had to fight to be sorted," Ron whispered.

"I'm pretty sure I read that a hat does it."

"A hat? Fred is so  _dea_ -" Ron was cut off by a shriek.

Harry felt as a chill ran up his spine. The sound of a breeze passed by and the air was still, beside him he could hear Ron holding his breath. In a fit of fear, Harry clicked his tongue and let his Sight take over. He watched as twenty or so bright white figures floated above their heads. They had a glow of the magic he had seen in Diagon Alley, however, it was a much more faded hue than the brightness from the stores he had visited.

Professor McGonagall's voice cut into his thoughts as she practically shooed away the spirits.

"Form a line and follow me." She said.

Hesitantly, Harry pulled his cane closer to his body and clicked his tongue once more. he began to notice the saturated colors from the walls themselves. Magic was obviously abundant in Hogwarts. He switched his Sight to look up and saw the slight glow of the floating candles overhead. The combination of lights and magic strained Harry's sensitive eyes but he refused to look away. He could see the shadows of students on either side of him and if he concentrated he could make out their hair colors and faces.

A dark girl ahead of him whispered, "It's bewitched to look like the sky. I read it in  _Hogwarts, A History_." Her voice seemed familiar but before Harry could place it, they had come to a stop in front of a stool with a hat placed on top of it. Then it tore at the seam and began to sing.

Even with the descriptions, Harry was having a hard time figuring out which house he would end up in. He was really fine with whichever as long as he got to stay and didn't have to return to the Dursleys.

-

"Abbott, Hannah!"

"-HUFFLEPUFF!"  
  
  


"Bones, Susan!"

"-HUFFLEPUFF!"  
  
  


"Boot, Terry!"

"-RAVENCLAW!"

The list when on. Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, Gryffindors, and Slytherins all called and sent to their tables. After each announcement there was applause. All of them had gotten into a house.

Harry clenched and unclenched his fist around his cane. He knew he had magic but that didn't mean they would let him stay. Maybe his blindness was a problem. Maybe the fact that his wand was brothers with Voldemort's would keep him from being accepted.  _Maybe you're just bound to be a freak here too._ A voice echoed within his head, it sounded strangely like Aunt Petunia.

-

Hermione Granger had a headache. Ever since she had run into Harry Potter on the train her brain had been on overdrive. She knew he was right about Slytherins. She herself had been a victim of stereotypes, her dark skin often caused people to call her names or avoid her on the street. When she had been informed she was a witch, it had opened her up to a wonderful world. She had to remind herself that with each wonder there came drawbacks.

Yes, she was a witch, but now she had a label. She was Muggleborn. Hermione had been warned of the prejudice within the wizarding world against her kind. She had been told that many wizards and witches looked down on her blood status due to a handful of people. She had scoffed at the unfairness of it all yet she had turned around and judged a group herself.

 _A bright mind indeed- there seems to be much thinking within this head._ The hat chuckled.

_Very eager, I see. Ravenclaw would do wonders for your mind- Gryffindor would certainly boost your confidence. Where to put you, where to put you?_

"Wherever you see fit." _I just want to stay._

_Despite that mind, you use your knowledge for yourself. You tend to think before you act- Gryffindor's recklessness would surely aggravate you. No, I know just where to put you- the question is can you take it? After all, a Muggleborn hasn't been placed in Slytherin in decades._

"Are you saying I can't do it?" She felt indignant.

_Many will say you can't, it will not be easy. I've never been wrong, you would thrive with the snakes._

"Then so be it."

 _Very well_ , "-SLYTHERIN!"

-

"Potter, Harry!"

Ignoring the whispers that broke out, Harry used his cane to lead himself to the stool. Professor McGonagall helped him up the steps before placing the hat onto his head.

_Difficult. Very difficult._

Harry clutched his cane closer to his chest.

_Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, my goodness, yes- and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting- where shall I put you?_

"Just don't make me leave."

_Yes, Gryffindor would follow the Potter name but you aren't much like your father are you? No-Much more thinking and more cunning in your brain. Like your mother, you have more survival instinct. I know just the house._

"Thank you."Harry felt himself sigh in relief.

 _You will do great things in_  "-SLYTHERIN!"

The hall was quiet as Harry took off the hat and held it out into Professor McGonagall's frozen hands. Warily he got off the stool and the Slytherin table broke into applause.

"We got Potter!" He heard a stray voice scream. He felt his cheeks redden as he stumbled his way to the table. Hesitantly, he slipped into the seat where he got pats on the back and random handshakes from across the table.

"Glad to see you in Slytherin." He heard Draco say.

"Can I sit with you?" The girl from before asked.

"N-"

"Of course," Harry said. "Sorry, but I never got your name." He stuck his hand out and she shook it.

"Hermione. Hermione Granger."

Harry smiled and turned his attention back to the sorting, waiting to hear Ron's house.

-

Ron Weasley looked to the Gryffindor table. It was all the way across the hall from the Slytherin table. He could see his brothers' redheads huddled together and make out Harry's white cane in the opposite table just before the hat was placed on his head.

_My, my. Another Weasley- but what's this? Something different?_

"What?"

_Yes, you are not like the rest. Chivalry, loyalty, ambition, and self-preservation- many houses, which to put you in? Another Weasley but a different fate._

"I don't want to just be another Weasley. I want to be myself. I want to be Ron."

 _Of course._ The hat chuckled. _There's that ambition and self-preservation._

_But there is some prejudice you'll have to work through to flourish. Can you?_

He took a deep breath, unclenched his eyes and peeked into the crowd. His brothers were smiling and, across the room, so was Harry. He had made a promise to his mom, a promise to himself too. Letting out his breath he made a decision.

"...Yes."

 _Excellent, welcome to_ "-SLYTHERIN!"

He watched as Harry clapped loudly before he slumped into the seat beside him. He threw a smirk at Malfoy from across the table. He didn't dare look back to his siblings for fear of rejection. Turns out he didn't need to because suddenly he heard two familiar voices.

"That's our Ronniekins!" The twins called out together.

Harry stifled a laugh beside him and Ron couldn't help but chuckle back.

Harry couldn't fight off a grin even as he heard Draco grumble. His house already felt more like a family than the Dursleys ever had. He pushed the Aunt Petunia-like thoughts away as he listened to Ron laugh. His luck was certainly turning up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment any ideas, mistakes or anything really! Tried to make this one a long one.


	11. Feasting As A First Year

**11: Feasting As A First Year**

Being blind meant that Harry's other senses were more heightened than most would think. Within the Dursley household, he had learned what survival of the fittest meant. It meant he would have to adapt, to learn how to tell who was who based on weight on steps, to notice shifts in voice and sense mood from afar.

So although he couldn't see the stares that were being thrown his way, he could still feel them prickling on his skin. He could still hear whispers that slipped from lips and carried through the air. He could taste the bitterness that he was regarded with and could smell a sour scent of envy from the other tables that came with it. Above that, there was excited chatter from his end of the table, the underlying smell of food and the nerves that caused his hands to tremble.

"Welcome," a voice cut in through the chatter. " _to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"_

There was applause but Harry didn't understand what was so inspirational about it. He felt himself frown. Perhaps it was a wizard thing to randomly spew made-up words.

"He sounds a bit mad, doesn't he? Who is it?"

"It's Headmaster Dumbledore. He's brilliant; a known genius and war hero throughout the wizarding world." Answered Hermione, a tinge of awe in her voice.

"But yes, he is." Said Ron around a mouthful.

"Well, Aristotle did say, 'No great mind ever existed without a touch of madness.'" He mumbled. Was that smell potatoes?

"You know Aristotle?" Hermione sounded surprised.

"Well, philosophy is one of the few things I could get from the library," Harry replied absentmindedly and missed the mixed look of awe and shock on her face as he breathed in scents from the table. That was definitely potatoes. Taking another deep sniff he could smell gravy, bacon, chicken, and peppermint.

"Draco, you said he was  _blind_." Came a snooty voice from further down the table. It was high-pitched and spaced out, almost as if talking to a toddler.

"He  _is_." By now, Harry could distinguish Draco's defensive tone. One he used often when he was questioned.

"He just said he went to the library. He _can read_." Pointed out another.

To Ron's right, another voice spoke. A smooth and drawn out voice that held a form of superiority compared to the two who had spoken before. "Ignore them, Pansy and Theo don't know how to keep their stupid commentary to themselves." _Just how many people are there?_ "I'm Blaise Zabini."

"I'm Harry."

"I know." Blaise chuckled.

"Harry, this is Pansy Parkison and this is Theodore Nott. That down there is Millicent Bulstrode and Daphne Greengrass." Draco indicated who he was introducing with a nod of his head. In turn, each person waved or nodded their head back.

"You do realize he can't see who you're talking about, right?" Ron mused quietly under his breath. Apparently not quietly enough because Harry heard a thud and Ron yelped, Harry was sure Draco had just kicked the red-head in the shin.

"So he  _is_ blind?"

" _He_ is still sitting here," Harry answered angrily. "If you had asked  _me_ any questions regarding  _me_ I would have answered."

"Fine, how can you read if you can't see?" She sounded triumphant as if catching Harry in a lie.

"I use Braille, it's made up of bumps that stand for letters. I just trace my pointer fingers over it and read that way." He made sure not to clarify anything about seeing, considering he could if he counted his Sight. He was processing information to see how he would play his cards. He barely knew these people and sharing his Sight with them could prove to be a mistake. If they believed he couldn't see at all, then he could definitely use that to his advantage. When people assumed someone was defenseless, they often let their guards down and Mathias had told him it was always best to have a trump card, whatever that meant.

From the High Table of the Great Hall Severus sneered down his long hooked nose in disgust. He restrained himself from running a hand over his exhausted face when his gaze landed on the raven-haired boy. Harry Potter was chatting and eating with the rest of the Slytherin first-years. His features looked too much like his arrogant father yet Severus knew that behind those dark shades were two emerald eyes. Without a doubt, that was the only trait that he had acquired from his mother.

The boy in question furrowed his eyebrows when talking to the Parkinson girl. She was pureblood, from a very wealthy and influential family but certainly had a habit for questioning, a habit she picked up from her reporter mother. It was probably the reason why the brat's lip had curled angrily. He spat something at her before he seemed to calm down. His shoulders lowered and he clutched his cane tightly in his lap.

As if sensing his gaze, he turned his shaded eyes over to the High Table. If Severus had not faced more frightening and dangerous creatures, he might have been intimidated by the unseeing eyes that locked onto his face. From this far away, his shades seemed like empty eye sockets. The boy's gaze seemed to look through him-Severus questioned how that was possible if the boy was supposed to be blind-and he almost let himself shudder. Suddenly, the boy's face contorted in pain and his red-haired freckled friend asked him if he was alright. He slid his hand underneath his shades and clutched the space between his eyebrows.

The Slytherin Head of House turned around to see Quirrell who hurriedly looked away and began to chat with Flitwick. He narrowed his eyebrows before glancing back at the table. The pain seemed to have passed but Weasley was shooting him suspicious looks and his godson, Draco, looked confused as he glanced from Potter back to the High Table.

Back at the Slytherin table, there was a sudden chill and the candles flickered for a moment. Like before the sorting, a cool light floated above. There was a hush on their side of the table. Harry could hear what sounded like a chain swaying in the wind. It reminded him of a rattling dog leash. The blur of light settled beside Draco and Crabbe. He felt himself shudder.

"Greetings." It said. When no one else answered, Harry decided to step up. He tried to keep his eyes facing the stranger's face based on where their voice had come from, a skill Aunt Petunia had engrained into him at a young age.

"H-hello." He said. He was vaguely aware of Draco's teeth chattering.

"I am glad to see so many in the House of Slytherin. I do hope you all prove yourselves worthy and win the House cup once more. That would show Nearly Headless Nick." Harry was tempted to ask questions but he could feel his fingers growing numb and decided to just nod his head in affirmation.

"Splendid, I'll be off then." With that, the ghost rose and swayed away in a cold breeze, the clank of his chains following him quietly.

"That was the Bloody Baron." Whispered Ron. "Charlie's told me about him. Blimey, he really lives up to his name. All that blood..." He shivered in disgust. At Harry's horror-filled look, Ron hastily explained, "He's a ghost."

Harry nodded his head slowly.

"Of course, why wouldn't there be?" He muttered.

-

Hunger was a feeling that Harry was accustomed to. He often spent days without food as punishment or sometimes for the amusement of his relatives. Dudley enjoyed walking by Harry's cupboard while munching on food, letting the smell waft by as Harry's stomach grumbled.

Before Hagrid had arrived to take him shopping, Harry wasn't sure the last time he had eaten to his heart's content. He didn't remember ever really savoring the taste of food, he didn't have that luxury. He survived on scraps and stolen bites when he made meals. He'd been caught once and Uncle Vernon had held his palms close enough to the sizzling bacon to feel each pop of grease and his fingers had begun to turn red from the heat. Harry learned how to not get caught.

Now he was sorely regretting eating two plates. His stomach hadn't had this much food in years and now it seemed to squirm in protest. He held his stomach as he listened to the rest of his year mates finish, careful not to seem in distress for fear of being asked questions.

Soon enough Dumbledore dismissed them, signing the Hogwarts song. The twins finishing off with a slow funeral pace and suddenly a voice spoke beside him.

"Alright First Years, follow me!"

Harry stood up quickly nearly spilling a cup over but Goyle held his elbow to steady him.

"Thanks." He murmured. They followed the Prefect as she led them down the halls. Harry was counting the steps out of the Great Hall and trying to keep track of all the number of steps that led down. It got colder the farther they went and Harry was thankful for Ron and Draco who slowed their pace to accompany him. Beside him, Draco seemed to be trembling with excitement while Ron seemed to just be shivering from the cold.

Harry had been tracing the wall all the way down and his fingers were tingling from the rough stone. They came to a stop in the dungeons in front of a blank piece of a stone wall.

"I'm Gemma Farley and I welcome you to Slytherin. As you could probably tell, our emblem is the serpent and our colors are emerald green and silver. Now, a few things to clear up before we walk into the common room. This house will be your new home for the next seven years and you are to treat it and each other with respect in public. Any problems you have with one another can be solved in private. We have to put on a united front."

He felt Draco and Ron stiffen on either side of him. as she shot them a look.

"The other houses, like most of the wizarding world, believe us to be the bad house. The evil house. They've produced bad wizards too, they just prefer to ignore it. It has some perks, walking down a crowded hall that parts for you."

She took a pause and assessed the timid first years before her.

"I'm here to tell you we are the ambitious house, the cunning house, the determined house. Like our emblem, we're sleek, powerful and easily misunderstood. You've been chosen by this house because you've got the potential to be great, in the true sense of the word. You might see a couple of people hanging around the common room whom you might not think are destined for anything special. Well, keep that to yourself. If the Sorting Hat put them in here, there's something great about them, and don't you forget it."

She turned away from them and said "anguis".

"The password changes every fortnight so keep an eye on the notice board. Remember to never bring anyone from another house into our common room or tell them our password. No outsider has entered it for more than seven centuries. Before I forget, yes we are under the Great Lake, no the glass will  _not_ break. It's been here for centuries and should continue to long after you're gone. Please refrain from trying to break it or our Head of House will have  _your_ head. I think that's all for now. I'm sure you'll like our dormitories. Boys to the left and girls to the right. Enjoy your first night."

Timidly but with great excitement, the group separated and walked down the separate corridors into their dorms. 

-

Harry lay on his bed as he listened to the steady rhythm of his roommates breathing. He was afraid to close his eyes for fear of waking up and finding this all to be a dream.

The moonlight was filtering in through the large windows to his right, a murky and soothing green that matched the lake. It seemed insane, something his sleep-deprived self might come up with. A magical school for magical people who kept their students under a lake. He kept his hands busy tracing the pattern of the duvet on top of him, the dungeons had proved to be much more freezing than he had originally thought. He wore Dudley's old pajamas, worn, holed and far too thin to be sleeping in while underneath a lake in the dungeons of a castle. He'd laid out his uniform for tomorrow above his trunk, shoes lined up and tie neatly placed above it to hopefully avoid having to rush in the morning.

He listened for Ron's snoring from the bed beside him as he absentmindedly rubbed his scar. It had begun to ache during the feast and Ron had explained that Snape, their Head of House Draco said, was looking right at him with a look of disdain. Well, not exactly, he had said: "He's looking at you as if you were a flobberworm." which Harry had picked up as "freak" from his limited amount of knowledge on magical and strange creatures. Which was great, only his first day and he was already hated and sticking out like a sore thumb.

He held his breath and quietly exhaled. Tomorrow would be a long day of memorizing the halls and counting steps. He closed his eyes and hoped he wouldn't wake in his cupboard in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ probably editing later


	12. Transfiguration

**12: Transfiguration**

As dawn rose, the sun filtered in through the Great Lake, past the windows and into the Slytherin dorms and common room. The room was illuminated by a soft emerald light, soft and comforting as it wandered in.

Harry was the first to wake up in his dorm. His internal clock was ringing despite the fact that he couldn’t see the light of the rising sun, a habit from the Dursleys. He had frantically scrambled to find his wand and traced the delicate details that were carved into it, each individual grove and valley, before finally being convinced that he was not, in fact, dreaming.

He sat up, quietly taking in all of the events that had led up to that moment. The food, the room, the liberty, the _magic_. He kept his wand clutched in his hand as the other traced the soft fabrics and embroidery of the sheets for a moment longer before throwing it all off and heading to the communal bathroom to get ready.

The water was warm, not the cold baths he was used to getting, and the towels were soft like cotton, just as pleasant as the bed he had slept in. Harry had carefully counted the steps to the shower, forty-three, and to the sink from the shower, eleven, while getting ready before returning to his bed. There he began to make his bed; careful to keep the sheets in the right order and hoping they were straightened. That’s how Draco found him later that morning, tenderly smoothing out each sheet until they were all perfectly straightened out.

The pureblood was tempted to say something, whether to tease or genuinely ask he wasn’t sure, but he didn’t get the chance before the Prefect was knocking on their dormitory and telling them to hurry down or they’d be left behind.

-

Despite the wonders of Hogwarts, Harry couldn’t help but miss his muggle school. Because, although magic was the most wonderful thing in Harry’s life, it was beginning to be bothersome. At his old school, he got time to wander, count steps and memorize the halls. Even though the teachers babied him, they knew some basics to handle blind students, something the staff of Hogwarts evidently lacked.

At first, it hadn’t been too difficult, getting to the Great Hall for breakfast the first morning had been easy with Prefect Gemma leading all the first years up from the dungeons. Trying to find their classes afterward was not.

The magic within Hogwarts allowed it to move and change as it pleased which was as troublesome as it was delightful. Even with both Ron and Draco’s help, he found himself crashing, stumbling and outright falling more times than he could count.

Counting was in itself another problem when everything was continuously moving from place to place. Harry found himself cursing as he tried to count the steps from the Great Hall to transfiguration, which was their first class according to their Timetables they received at breakfast. Just as frustrating was the amount of bickering between Ron and Draco on their way there.

Neither seemed to know the proper way to lead a blind person but that didn’t stop either of them from trying. Harry felt indignant as they attempted to lead him around and was reminded of how Aunt Petunia would constantly yank him by his arm instead of letting him hold onto her elbow. Ron and Draco’s ‘guiding’ consisted of being pulled one way then another as both wizards argued about which way the classroom was in and, more often than not, who was right.

Harry honestly didn’t know why they argued so much. If they had just watched where their peers had gone they would have been in the classroom instead of wandering the halls. Harry's veins were coursing with anxiety at this point, frightened about what the teacher would do should they enter the classroom late. It really didn’t help that while Harry was having an internal crisis, Ron and Draco were still arguing.

“If you hadn’t insisted on eating so much, we wouldn’t be lost now. Should have expected it, must not get much at home, not with all those mouths to feed. Why have so many children with no money to provide for them?” Harry could hear Draco’s sneer. Ron rose to the bait and took a step closer to Draco’s back.

“If anyone is to blame for slowing us down, it’s you! You spent all morning fixing up your hair with a whole bucket-load of gel. I can see why _your_ parents stopped at one child. People can only take so much disappointment.” Draco stiffened at Ron’s words. He turned slowly, his eyes burning with cold fury. Although Harry couldn’t see it, he felt the anger radiating off of the pale blond.

“How _dare_ you e-“

“Will you two stop?” Despite being a soft whisper, it halted the other two’s words.

“Sorry.” They muttered, one slightly more begrudgingly than the other. Harry let out an exhausted sigh. Having friends was proving to be much more difficult than he originally thought. Mathias had never been this difficult to get along with. Besides him, Harry had very limited experiences with friends so he wasn’t entirely sure if this much fighting was normal or not.

“It wasn’t really _my_ fault…” Ron muttered.

“Oh, so you’re saying it’s my fault?” They went into another round of bickering which Harry decided to ignore in favor of trying to find their classroom.

-

When they entered the classroom, Ron let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank, Merlin. McGonagall isn’t here yet.”

“That’s Professor McGonagall to you, Mr. Weasley.” Harry jumped at the voice. He recognized it as the one that greeted them the night prior, right before the Sorting took place. He ducked his face as he felt it burn with embarrassment as she approached them.

“…Yes, Professor McGonagall.”

“Take your seats, gentlemen. We’ve wasted enough time as it is.” _Great, that’s two teachers that hate you._

Their class was shared with the Gryffindor which was a bad decision if you asked Harry considering the tension between the two houses. They shot insults at one another from across the classroom when the Professor’s back was turned. It didn’t last long as Professor McGonagall saw someone throw parchment and with a flick of her wand had all their parchment laid out flat on the desks. With a stern: “I am not afraid to assign detentions on the first day.”

After that, McGonagall demonstrated a few transfigurations and explained they were higher level and could only be achieved through hard work. Everyone else gasped in awe when she turned her desk into a pig. Harry was tempted to take a peak with his sight but before he could, she had changed it back.

Overall, Harry had a hard time during class; he couldn’t take notes, couldn’t see the demonstrations and couldn’t answer any of the questions she asked. Ron and Draco both offered to take notes for him, which Harry gratefully agreed to. He was still unsure of how he’d study them later if he couldn’t read them but that was a problem for future Harry.

The class was dismissed but before Harry went far Professor McGonagall called out, “Not you, Mr. Potter. I’d like a word with you.”

“Good luck, mate.”

“We’ll wait for you outside.”

As soon as the door was closed, Harry felt himself stiffen. He wondered how teachers punished students in the wizarding world. Harry was certain that was the reason she wanted to speak to him, for being late to class. _If that’s the case then why didn’t_ they _get in trouble then? Because_ you’re _the freak, or did you forget?_

“Take a seat, Mr. Potter.” Harry collapsed his cane as soon as he was seated once more.

“I-I’m sorry, Professor. I didn’t mean to be late, but the staircases kept changing and I-“He nervously twisted his cane within his hands.

“Mr. Potter, you are not in trouble for being late, although I would appreciate you not make it a habit in the future.”

“Of course, but if I’m not being punished, why _did_ you want to see me?”

“It has come to my attention that due to your disability it may be difficult to do certain activities within the classroom environment.”

 _Oh, here it comes. They’re going to kick you out of Hogwarts._ Although he knew this would be coming, he still couldn’t help the disappointment and helplessness that filled him knowing he would have to leave magic behind. It was a sick game really, to introduce him to the wonders of magic only to rip it away.

“I…understand.” He took a breath to keep the tears from falling. “Do you want me to start packing?”

“What on earth are you talking about? I was simply going to ask you how Professor Snape is accommodating to your unique needs. What options has he given you in regards to learning tools?” Harry stopped fiddling and looked up in confusion.

“Why…why would Professor Snape help me?”

“He should be helping you, Mr. Potter, because as your Head of House it is his duty to. Has he not been doing so?” Her voice took a colder tone.

“I haven’t spoken to him.”

“I should have known.” She murmured. “Alright then, I know I am not your Head of House but I _am_ the Deputy Headmistress. I would suggest you use a Dicta-quill to take your notes but it would still prove difficult to read them, a translating spell would be too hard…” She sighed dejectedly. “I will speak to Professor Snape as well as the Headmaster to see what we can do to.”

“What if you can’t? Find a way for me to learn magic, I mean.” He clarified, nerves rising once more.

“Mr. Potter, I can assure you that you are not the first student with a disability to come to Hogwarts and I can guarantee you that you will not be the last.” She sounded amused but Harry couldn’t tell if she was making fun of him or not.

“I’ll make sure to get back to you or ask Professor Snape to speak with you before tomorrow.”

“…Thank you, Professor.”

“Of course, now run along, I wouldn't want to make you late for your next class.”

He walked out feeling lighter than he had all morning. If only it could have stayed that way.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've been gone! Please tell me what you think. I know it's not much but Writer's block is a pain.


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